Dragons of the Void Century
by TheGumGumWriter
Summary: Long before a little boy would eat the Gum-Gum Fruit and became a rubber man, years before the Straw Hat Pirates and the rest of the Worst Generation rookies would run amuck on the Grand Line, the tides of fate brought a young CP0 operative (Monkey D. Dragon) and Celestial Dragon (Saint Adélaïde) together. The world would never be the same… (Possible spoilers for anime only fans)
1. Prologue - The Gray Terminal

AN: _This is based off a theory a few us were discussing on a One Piece forum (OroJackson) on the possibility Luffy's mom being a Celestial Dragon. I hope you enjoy my take on what drove the son of Garp the Hero to become the Revolutionary we know and love as Monkey D. Dragon!_

Disclaimer: _One Piece and all the characters (unless they're OCs) belong to Echiro Oda. Props to him for being a badass._

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><p><strong>Dragons of the Void Century<strong>

Prologue: The Gray Terminal

"Dragon, vwhat the hell happened?! This looks bad!" The cloaked man, with a rather oversized head and copious amounts of makeup and lipstick caked onto his face, couldn't help but shout at the sight of what lay in his commander's arms. The dirt-covered, gory mass of burnt fabric and caked blood could hardly pass for a human, let alone a child.

"Get him treated now." Dragon ordered sternly. "Iva, he'll need your hormones."

"Yes sir! Right away, sir!" A frantic soldier wearing a shark helmet nearly tripped over his big-headed superior while hurriedly scooping the child from the arms of his commander. Looking down, the soldier winced at how much of the ten year old's face had been seared away.

Separating the child from his commander's arms proved to be a herculean task. The boy clutched at Dragon's cloak with the all the strength his broken little body could muster. "Ace. Luffy." He croaked, half-awake. "Run away."

If Emporio Ivankov, the big-headed, mascara smeared drag queen, had noticed his commander's face soften ever so slightly at the child's labored whisper, he made no mention of it. He knew better. Once, on a voyage to Baltigo, the Revolutionary Army's main base of operations, Iva – commenting on how Dragon's gaze always seemed to linger eastward – asked the Revolutionary if he had any family in the eastern seas. Dragon had made it clear he didn't want anyone prying into his personal life, not even his most trusted subordinates. Even with that, Iva couldn't help noticing how Dragon cradled the frail life in his arms. For a moment, one could almost forget the child had just been rescued from a traumatic ordeal, that the person holding him was none other than Dragon, commander of the Revolutionary Army, the man the World Government called 'World's Most Dangerous' and 'World's Most Wanted'. _He holds that boy like he's his own._ Iva thought. Maybe it was his drag queen's intuition, but something about the way the child comfortably clung to Dragon just wouldn't leave him be.

Whatever thoughts had triggered his observatory nature, Iva didn't have time to dwell on them. Once the child finally let go of Dragon and allowed the soldiers to lay him down on the ship's sterilized medical table, Iva noticed the Revolutionary had once again regained his composure. "How awful they are to burn the area and the residents there." The Drag Queen spoke, outraged by the lunacy of the Goa Kingdom Nobles. "By the vway, how did you know about the situation in such an outlying country in the East Blue? Is there something special about this country?"

Dragon was quiet, a look of pure determination chiseled onto his face. "This country is an example of how the world will be in the future. There can be no happiness in a world where the undesirables are thrown away." Iva looked at Dragon in awe of embers of raw will he saw blazing in his commander's eyes. "Someday, I will change the world!" Dragon's focused eyes shifted to the child on the medical table, filling all the more with fiery indignation at the World Government, the ones responsible for bringing harm to an innocent. Iva knew this look, a thunderous gaze that left even the most bloodthirsty and power-drunk despots trembling in fear. "Even in a country like this," the Revolutionary continued, "there are children." Emboldened by the sight of the wounded child and the hungry flames roaring around the ship, Dragon stepped forward on the deck, towards the mob of those who had escaped the fire set to exterminate them. "Hear me!" The Revolutionary shouted. "Those of you who are willing to fight for freedom, come aboard my ship!"

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><p>The surgery took three hours. The worst of the boy's ensanguined burns had closed, his broken bones set, and the child was now fast asleep. <em>Been a while since I've had to use this much of my power to save someone. He has a strong vwill to live. <em>Iva thought, out of breath from having felt the torrent of miracle-inducing hormones flow through his hands and into the boy's body. As if reading his mind, Dragon placed a strong hand on his subordinate's shoulder. "Thank you." The Revolutionary spoke softly, mindful of the sleeping child. "I couldn't let him die."

Iva nodded as the two walked out on the ship's deck. "I vwasn't sure he'd make it when I virst saw him. I did what I could to heal his body. Vwe'll just have to vwait and see how much damage has been done on his heart." The Drag Queen took a look at his commander. "And could you get some sleep?"

Dragon's mouth curved into a slight grin. "Are you worried about me?"

"Vwhat are you saying?!" Iva shouted, waving his arms frantically as his enormous purple afro bobbed up and down. "Of course I am. Vwe all are! The burden you have to carry is heavy and you don't have to shoulder it alone! Sometimes I vwish you would let us handle more. It wouldn't kill you to rest every once in a while!"

Dragon shook his head, smiling at the concerned Drag Queen. But on the inside, his mind was racing. _How can I rest? How can I rest when this world does not give a damn about this child, when the world is not safe for children like Luffy?_ Luffy. Yes, that name. The one he held in his mind and spoke to no one, the name he only allowed himself to hold when completely alone. The name _she_ had picked. His mind wandered off to the black haired, rambunctious baby boy he'd left behind in this East Blue, in this Goa Kingdom. He was probably only a few miles away. His child. _Her_ child. _Luffy, I hope the old man, your grandpa, is treating you okay. And I hope someday, you come to know that I do this for you. So you can be free._

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><p><strong>Poor Sabo! He's all burnt up. :'( What'd you guys think of the interaction between Dragon and Ivankov. I gave Ivankov a Russian accent since that tends to be the consensus among fansubbers these days. I know, I know. You guys are probably wondering who this Celestial Dragon lady is. Don't worry, she'll get introduced soon (in two chapters). In the meantime, let me know what you guys thought of this little prologue. I'd love your thoughts and opinions! Read and review!<strong>


	2. Burned by the Dragon's Flame

AN: _The story of Monkey D. Dragon & Luffy's Celestial Dragon mother continues._

Disclaimer: _One Piece and all characters (unless they're OCs) are the property of Echiro Oda. Props to him for being a badass._

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><p><strong>Dragons of the Void Century<strong>

**Chapter 01: Burned by the Dragon's Flame**

The charred, dark-scarlet chunk engulfing the sleeping child's left eye taunted the Revolutionary. The burnt skin scoffed like the Goresei's response to the long tattoos on the left cheek and temple of the World's Most Dangerous Man. "Even vwith all the healing hormones I've pumped into his body, I can't seem to do a thing about that burn." Ivankov whispered in frustration. Dragon turned to the Drag Queen, his fiery eyes honing in on his subordinate. To most of Dragon's soldiers, this petrifying glance and its accompanying grave expression were thought to communicate his displeasure, though most had never seen it. Rumors said the power Dragon carried within himself was enough to topple whole armies with one menacing glare, the _Will of the King_, the _Conqueror's Haki_.

But Iva knew Dragon too well. He had spent too many hours in the heat of battle with the Revolutionary to be unfamiliar with what his eyes were really saying. Iva didn't see any deadly intent in the look his commander gave him. As he stared into those untamed pools of molten focus, the deep, buried anguish of a tortured soul peered back. _Oh, Dragon._ He thought, staring down at the slumbering ten year old to keep his eyes from brimming with tears_. Is this vwhat it means to command? How long have you been so alone? _The throbbing pain in Iva's heart was too great to suppress the deep feelings he had buried. Dragon was the only man he had ever truly loved, the only man he would follow to the ends of the earth. Iva had left behind his New Kama Land Candies, his Kingdom of Drag Queen citizens for months on end, just to be at his commander's side. So why did he keep pushing him away? _Vwhy vwon't you let us close, Dragon? Vwhy do you vwant to carry the burden of Revolution alone? _Iva couldn't keep his heart silent. He couldn't keep the questions from coming. _Vwhat happened in your life all those years ago?_ _Who have you lost? Vwhy vwon't you let me help you? _Iva couldn't stop the single drop from rolling down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away, not even caring about the risk of running his mascara. Having let his pain run its course, the Drag Queen quickly regained his composure. No. Dragon must never know how he truly felt. Dragon would never know. _If I can just be at his side, if I can just bring some light to the blackness he hides away, then I'll be happy. _Iva looked back up at Dragon, with a composed seriousness. The Revolutionary was completely unaware of the few minutes of inner torture his subordinate had just undergone.

"Dragon, vwhat happened to the boy?" Iva whispered. "Vwhy vwas he so badly burned? Most of the burns and injuries he had could not have come from the fire in the Gray Terminal; I don't care how violent those flames vwere."

Iva saw the torrent of rage in his commander's eyes collapse, a well of sorrow spilling out from underneath. The torment was all too apparent now. Dragon turned to walk towards the ship's deck with Iva in tow.

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><p>"I didn't want to say it inside. The boy is resting, but I don't want to risk him hearing. He's already suffered enough." The dawn sky and the gentle roar of the ocean waves splashing up against the enormous boat were a perfect match to just how much Dragon's fiery mood had settled. <em>There it is again.<em> Iva thought. _It's like the child's his own son._ Dragon continued. "I found him in High Town. The child of nobles, lying on the floor, covered in cuts and bruises. Someone had clearly beaten him." Iva's eyes widened at hearing of Sabo's parentage. "You know what he first said to me?"

Iva shook his head, caught up in his commander's story. Dragon spoke "He told me the Goa royalty and the nobles were behind the fire. Imagine that, a little child had to be the one to speak the truth." If Iva's eyes had gotten any bigger, he would have had to inject his already humongous head with one of his spiked, growth hormone-releasing fists to accommodate for their obnoxious size. Dragon kept speaking. "He was so desperate for me to believe him. Who knows how many people he talked to before I found him?" The child's words ricocheted off the walls inside Dragon's head. _This town smells worse than the Gray Terminal! It smells like rotten people! If I stay here, I'll never be free. I'm ashamed of being born a noble! _Iva listened, not a peep heard from the Drag Queen. He stood, flabbergasted by what he was hearing. "Who could have ever imagined a kingdom, _this_ kingdom, could fall like this, low enough to make an innocent child regret their own birth?"

"Vwow." Iva whispered in disbelief.

"But Iva, that's not even the worst of it." Dragon spoke. "Do you remember how I told you I went to see the Celestial Dragon welcoming ceremony?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Right before the World Government ship docked, I spotted a small sailboat going out to sea, headed straight for it."

"Vwait, don't tell me…"

Dragon nodded, a grim expression on his face as he remembered the scene. "A bunch of the people from the huge crowd screamed for the little ship to move out of the way. The boy must have heard them, because a little while later, it ducked off to the side, no longer in the ship's path."

Horror played on Iva's face as the Drag Queen put both hands to his head in terror. "Dragon, please, you can't be saying…"

"The little ship was going on its way, when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, the loud sound of a small cannon was heard, just like the ones those filthy, cowardly World Nobles carry. They shot him, Iva. And if that wasn't enough, they shot him again. The entire ship was on fire."

"Son of a sea king!" Iva spat. "Dragon, I had no idea! But that totally makes sense, all the burns, all the broken bones!"

At that point, a tall and burly, giant of a man wearing a brown hooded cloak with bear ears, walked towards the two conversing revolutionaries. "Dragon, sir. We may need to stop and get some supplies. We don't have enough for the three day voyage to Baltigo."

"I'll be there in a minute, Kuma." Iva looked at the other man and nodded. The large man returned the nod. Bartholomew Kuma was another one of Dragon's most trusted subordinates and he understood when his commander needed to vent about one of the horrors he had witnessed from the World Government. Without saying a word, Kuma went back below deck.

"I just can't believe this. I mean, I know it's true. But still, even for the Vworld Government, even for these beastly Celestial Dragons, this is just insane."

"I know." Dragon said gravely. "Believe me, I've seen them do despicable things before. But even this, shocked me."

"They're not human. They're monsters!" Iva screeched, clenching his fists. "How long do vwe have to put up with them doing vwhatever they vwant? They think they can take vwhatever, vwhenever, vvwithout consequence."

Hearing that, Dragon turned to the sea, watching the deep blue waves scurry around the large frigate. "But even with all the power they hold, they're not gods."

"Hmm?" The Drag Queen turned to see what the Revolutionary was staring at.

"Even with all the strings they pull, the seemingly endless fortune they've amassed, and the debauchery they wallow in, often in broad daylight, they're not invincible. Far from it."

"Vwhat do you mean?"

"I saw one man defy them all. I saw one man strike fear into the very heart of Mariejois. I watched him die, having won the victory all of us dream of."

"Dragon, who? Who vwas this man?

Dragon turned to his subordinate, flashing his trademark confident smile. "The man who tamed the seas, who conquered the unruly waves of the Grand Line, all with his mouth turned up in a rum-cheered grin. The Pirate King, Gol D. Roger!"

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><p><strong>How about those freaking Celestial Dragons? Do you hate them even more now? Don't worry, there's more where that came from.<strong>

**Next Thursday, Dragon's flashback begins with the Execution of Gol D. Roger.**

**What'd you guys think of Ivankov's feelings for his commander? Don't worry I'm not writing IvaxDragon slash. Tbh, I didn't even know I'd be writing about Iva's feelings like this. As I wrote, Iva seemed to take on a life of his own. If you think about it, though, for a Drag Queen, wouldn't this be realistic? Also, it makes sense if you look at the way Iva seemed to act very motherly towards Luffy in Impel Down & Marineford.**

**And, how about that Sabo?**

**Read & Review! I'd love to hear your thoughts.**


	3. The Legend Who Smiled At Death

AN: _The story of Monkey D. Dragon & Luffy's Celestial Dragon mother continues. This chapter takes place 12 years before the first two chapters, 22 years before the Start of One Piece._

Disclaimer: _One Piece and all characters (unless they're OCs) are the property of Echiro Oda. Props to him for being a badass._

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><p><strong>Dragons of the Void Century<strong>

**Chapter 02: The Legend Who Smiled At Death**

"The World Government is full of shit! Buncha cowards and liars, the whole lot of them!" A large bearded man spat, shaking his rain soaked newspaper at the approaching parade of marines trailing down the main street brick path. "The Pirate King, captured? Execution? Yeah, my ass!" Normally, noisy and boisterous pirate wannabes, reeking of a foul stench somewhere between month old seawater and sour rum, like the man standing too close to Dragon for comfort, would have annoyed him to no end. But today was different; his mind was elsewhere, hoping to find an inkling of meaning on this overcast downpour of a day._  
><em>

Dragon turned, scanning his surroundings. The overcrowded town square was overflowing with an ocean of onlookers. From all the Four Blues, sea-hardened pirates and idealistic marines alike, as well as boatloads of curious touristic civilians, had poured in to witness what clearly would be a turning point in history. The Loguetown execution platform stood drenched in the blanket of an ominous and eerie calm, despite the furious pitter patter of rain and the thunderous rumblings of an intensifying storm. Its aged pinewood frame stood with silent, calculated ferocity, like a sea king biding its time in the still waters of the Calm Belt, patiently stalking its unsuspecting prey. The coastal town, with its usually vibrantly crowded open air markets and enticing array of high end shops, had come to a complete halt, the excitement of its vivacious activity now crammed into the stifling confines of the town square.

In an abrupt moment, the din of clamor and chatter among the countless multitude lowered to an even more deafening silence. The parade of marines and the color guard carrying the Loguetown and World Government flags was coming ever closer. A voice a few feet from Dragon broke the silence with a loud chorus of guffaws. "Ooh. Here _he_ comes." The flamboyantly dressed, blonde-haired pirate wearing curved and thin, white, purple-lensed sunglasses and a hot-pink feather coat chuckled, expectant deviance oozing out of his exuberant wardrobe. "Pirate King, Gold Roger, what will you do now, with the whole world watching?"

A few feet to the right of Dragon, a sobbing blue haired boy in his late teens with an obnoxiously large and clownish, snot smeared red nose had lost his composure. "Captain Roger! CAPTAIN ROGER!" He cried inconsolably. His young auburn haired friend wrapped one arm tightly around the clown-nosed boy. Trying to calm his grieving crewmate with one arm, while desperately clasping the straw hat on his head with the other, he had also succumbed to despair-laden blubbering.

"Buggy, we promised him we wouldn't cry. We promised the captain!"

"Shut up, Shanks! Leave me alone! You're not doing any better than me!"

Dragon took in the scene around him, the crowd growing all the more lively in expectation of the inevitable. This was real. This was actually happening. "So, _this_ is the King." A fair skinned, black haired teenager with peculiar yellow-orange eyes, like those of a focused aviary predator, spoke softly, intensely observing the winding parade.

A few feet to the left of Dragon, a man in his mid-twenties gave a loud snort, amused at the absurdity of the scene. He took a hearty puff of his cigar, annoyed by how much rainwater poured onto his slicked back, jet black hair. He took his left arm from his pocket, rubbing the enormous gold hook where his left hand once was.

The parade was now a meter or two away from Dragon and the twenty five year old could see the neck-length mane of wavy, spiky black hair, the immaculately white grin under the thick mustache lighting up the stormy day.

"Pirate King, we love you!" A shout flew up from the crowd and with that the murmur and chatter of the enormous mob erupted, back in full swing. The marines eyed the crowd nervously, guns at the ready. They pushed back a few hot blooded ruffians here and there, but so far, nothing too serious. Still, the mounting tension was overwhelming. With all these seadogs gathered in one place, how much longer could they keep the peace? How long before a line was crossed?

The Pirate King was now coming up the brick path, just a few feet from Dragon. Standing tall in his long scarlet captain's coat, the refined apparel underneath seemingly still as bright as the day it was bought, despite the downpour seeping into everyone's clothes, one could have easily mistaken him for a distinguished noble on a leisurely stroll to rendezvous with a fair lady at the opera house. _This_ was Gol D. Roger. This was the man who had conquered the beastly sea, the Grand Line, a carefree, grinning, rum gulping, sightseeing tourist on the most dangerous ocean the world had ever known. Dragon stood, awestruck at the sight of such a larger-than-life man. "Shanks! Buggy!" He laughed, with an exuberance that defied his current circumstances. _Roger_, Dragon thought, _do you even know you're walking to your death_?

Dragon noticed the clown-nosed boy and his auburn haired, straw hat wearing friend were sobbing even more now, all the while trying to wipe the snot and tears away. "Look alive, now will ya?" He lifted the wooden block enshackling his hands with confident joy. "Didn't you hear your captain? I won't die!"

Shanks and Buggy nodded, the waterworks now streaming freely down their faces. "Hey now," a marine to the back of Roger barked, pushing the pirate from behind, yet finding himself unable to do anything but slap his hand against Roger's strong back, "keep moving."

Roger kept walking before turning his head. It was in that moment that his gaze crossed Dragon's eyes. The Pirate King's smile widened. Dragon felt the color rush to his cheeks, feeling as though he had just shrunk a few feet in his long, dark green hooded cloak. "Dragon." Roger spoke the twenty five year old's name with warm glee. Roger nodded, knowing he did not have to say much. His eyes had done all the talking. _So you came, my boy. I hope you find what you're seeking_. Is what Dragon heard the famous Gold Roger say to him, though the Pirate King had only spoken his name. Dragon sighed in shock. How could Roger face death with a smile? How did he stroll through the streets, greeting friend and foe alike as though on his way to his coronation?

Even now, the words the Pirate King had spoken to Dragon a few years ago, in the bar that night, when Roger had just been a captain with no reputation, fame, or notoriety to speak of, rang in his ears. _My boy, remember this. Remember this always. Destiny. Fate. Dreams. My boy, these unstoppable ideals are held deep in the heart of man. As long as there are people who seek freedom in this life, these things shall not vanish from the Earth._

Roger had reached the platform now and was now climbing up. With each step he took, the tension in the throng seemed to swirl about increasingly, like a Grand Line waterspout. Finally, he stood on the platform, looking out at the endless sea of faces packed into and spilling out of the town square. "Do you have any final words?" A marine spoke curtly.

Roger turned to face the marine addressing him. "Hey, friend. Can you do something about this? It's doing a number on my hands." The Pirate King lifted the enchained wooden block, pointing it at the marine.

"I can't do that!" The marine barked, fearfully averting his eyes from the Pirate King's gaze.

"Where am I going to run?" Roger laughed. The marine gave no response. "That's all right," the Pirate King sighed, "I guess I'm on my own for this one." He sat down, Indian style, resting the wooden block on the ground, lounging lazily on the platform as if waiting for his meal to be brought to him in a restaurant. "All right," he quipped, "let's get this over with."

The two soldiers on his right and left brandished their long spears with broadsword-like blades and raised them high, crossing them in front of the Pirate King, ready for their final blow. Without warning, a loud voice rose up from the tumult of the crowd. "HEY!" Roger scanned the crowd, hoping to see who might have been speaking. He found the culprit, or rather, the voice's owner, standing three meters away from Dragon, hands cupped to his mouth. "HEY! PIRATE KING!" Roger grinned, waiting eagerly for the young man to continue. "Tell us where the hell you've hidden all your treasure! Is it in the Grand Line or someplace else? You found it, didn't you?"

"You there, shut up!" The marine to the left of Roger barked with a panic gripped voice.

"THE LEGENDARY TREASURE!" The young man continued, undeterred. "THE OOOOOOOOONNNNNEEEE PIIIIEEEEEEEECE!" His voice echoed around the town square, the crowd silent, awaiting Roger's response.

Roger, after a moment of being pleasantly startled, let out a loud, mirth-filled, bellowing roar of a laugh from the pit of his stomach. "You want my treasure?"

"Scum, just shut your mouth!" A frustrated, spear-wielding marine spat. The marines on either side of the Pirate King, suddenly aware of what was to happen, raised their spears to pierce him. But it was too late. The World Government and the Marines couldn't shut him up on the seas of the Grand Line and they certainly couldn't do so now.

"YOU CAN HAVE IT!" Roger continued. "I left everything I gathered in that place!"

The marines' spears were flying forward now. "EXECUTE!" One of them screamed.

Checkmate. Roger smiled boldly, like a child who'd proceeded to rouse his friends to soundly beat the neighborhood bully, knowing full well they wouldn't be seeing the coward around anytime soon. "Search the world! NOW YOU JUST HAVE TO FIND IT!"

The sound of the angry, unforgiving spears goring the flesh of the Pirate King rang out throughout the town square, drawing the breath out of everyone. Dragon stood in shock. _He's smiling?_ He thought, dumbfounded with incredulity. _He died with a smile?!_

An atmosphere of absolute silence descended upon the rain soaked onlookers. Even the blonde haired, hot pink wearing, flamboyantly dressed man a few feet from Dragon was speechless. Then, after what seemed like three lifetimes, a loud cacophonous uproar rang throughout the town square, overpowering every other sound. It seemed as if the vibrations from this din alone would bring down the execution platform in an avalanche of blood soaked, wooden rubble. Cheers broke out left and right. Guns were fired in the air. The sound of exuberant applause filled the atmosphere and seized the marines on the execution platform with hair-raising, spine-tingling fear.

The Pirate King had left the earth with a smile, as extravagant in death as he'd been in life. The whole of Loguetown erupted at the sight of one of its own, a legendary son of the East Blue, grinning to the end. Dragon took in the scene, overcome by emotion. _Now I see what you were thinking_. Dragon thought, tears welling up in his eyes. _I couldn't understand why you gave yourself over to the World Government._ _Now I know_; _you knew full well what you'd start by dying here today_. His heart ached for the man who had taken the time to listen to him when he'd been lost and confused. Though they'd only had a few conversations, Dragon saw Roger as a mentor, an inspiration. The twenty five year old's face turned down into a solemn frown. "Now, it's my turn." He whispered. "I'm going to find the Truth. I'm going to bring them down." Dragon turned to exit the scene of jubilant chaos breaking out in the town square, skirting the pandemonium the marines stationed at Loguetown were beside themselves trying to put a lid on.

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><p>From some distance away, in a horse drawn carriage, a pair of dainty, white gloved hands put down the high powered binoculars their owner was using to watch the scene. "Claudios." A voice called out gently.<p>

"Yes, m'lady." Claudios, an enormous Elbathian giant turned to his mistress.

The ebony haired woman, in her late teens, spoke, amusement ringing in her voice. "Who was that man?"

"A pirate, m'lady. They call him 'Gold Roger' or the 'Pirate King'. He's the captain of the only crew to make it to the end of the Grand Line."

"Splendid!" The black haired woman giggled with glee.

"Why are you so odd, Adélaïde?" A bejeweled, exquisitely dressed woman with magenta colored hair teased her black haired friend. "You've always been interested in your pirates and ruffians. Father says you make Saint Ambroise, worry with all your fads, that they've even had to tell you not to bring any scum home with you."

Adélaïde, the black haired teen, rolled her eyes. "Armentria, you pay too much attention to the royal gossip. Too bad tales of hearsay get a little stretched by the time they reach the Goa Kingdom palace. Besides, life in Mariejois bores me. Everyone there has nothing more to do than talk about how much better they are than commoners, how lucky they are to live sheltered away from the 'ordinaries'. Out here, in places like this, is where the real people live. That's why I asked you to show me around the East Blue."

Armentria, fourth princess of the Goa Kingdom, kept teasing her friend. "Well at least I _act_ like royalty! You can trade places with me anytime. I'd LOVE to be a Celestial Dragon and I wouldn't make Saint Ambroise worry so much."

But Adélaïde was no longer listening to her friend, she was lost in the waves of thought careening through her mind. _Gold Roger, huh? Pirate King, I would have loved to meet you, to listen to you. Maybe you would've been honest with me. Maybe you would've been the only one to finally let me admit it. _

_I don't belong in Mariejois. _

_I was born to live free._

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><p><strong>Gol. D. Roger. What a BOSS.<strong>

**I hope reading this chapter gave you the epic feels I had while writing it. To write this chapter I watched episode 48, 400, and Strong World Episode 0.**

**What'd you think of my little character cameos?**

**Doflamingo.**  
><strong>Buggy.<strong>  
><strong>Shanks.<strong>  
><strong>Mihawk.<strong>  
><strong>Crocodile.<strong>

**What'd you guys feel when you saw some familiar faces.**

**I finally introduced Adélaïde, my OC for Dragon's lover & Luffy's mom. Next Thursday, the next chapter of Dragons of the Void Century will take a look at Adélaïde's childhood as a Celestial Dragon/World Noble. Don't miss it!**

**Pick up the Den Den Mushi snail! I'd love to hear your thoughts!**

**Don't be shy! Read and review!**


	4. Filth of Humans, Blood of Gods

AN: _This chapter in the life of Saint Adélaïde (Luffy's Celestial Dragon mother) takes place 25 years before the first two chapters, 35 years before the Start of One Piece._

Disclaimer: _One Piece and all characters (unless they're OCs) are the property of Echiro Oda. Props to him for being a badass.  
><em>

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><p><strong>Dragons of the Void Century<strong>

**Chapter 03: Filth of Humans, Blood of Gods**

"Faster, slave! Or I'll have you whipped!" The ultramarine-haired eleven year old kicked the woman acting as his playtime horsie ride hard in the rib. She grunted, feeling the brunt of his pointed, diamond-encrusted sea king-hide loafer.

"Alfie! Stop it! Don't hurt Mama Basi!" A dark-haired six year old girl shrieked in horror.

Alfie turned his head to the little child seated behind him on the woman and scowled. "Adie! How many times have I told you? My name's not Alfie! My name is Alphonse! Daddy says I'm in charge when he's gone!"

"I don't care! You're hurting her!"

"She's a slave! Just because she's yours, doesn't mean I can't punish her!" The little boy continued to mercilessly kick Basi.

"Stop it!" In a tearful rage, Adie leapt off the woman and pushed Alfie, or rather, Alphonse, off of Basi's back. The eleven year old hit his rump on marble floor. Getting over his initial shock, he jolted back to his feet, poised to strike the little girl.

"ALPHONSE!" A stern, deep male voice ricocheted off the walls of the large playroom. Alfie froze, his eyes wide with fear. He turned to the door, head bowed. A bearded man with long, wavy, dark hair and fierce, commanding eyes glared at the boy.

"Father, we were just…" Alphonse whimpered.

"It looked like you were going to hit Adélaïde. You know better."

The eleven year old's eyes couldn't have stared any lower. His father continued. "My son, how many times must you vex me? You are my firstborn, my heir. You are a Celestial Dragon. I will not have the future of our family line befouled by a brat who insists on acting _human_." The man said that last word with a disgusted shudder, as if the very thought of what the swearword implied would stain the immaculately white robe he wore.

"Yes, Father." Alphonse said glumly. Then, he turned to Adélaïde, face wrenched with anger. "Why do you always have to be such a CRYBABY about everything?" Tears streamed down the little girl's cheeks as she took in the boy's stinging words. "You're NOTHING like me, Ansel, Céleste, or Héloïse! Maybe Uncle and Auntie died at sea so they wouldn't have to raise a crybaby slave-lover like YOU!"

"ALPHONSE!" His father shouted. But the boy had already run off to sulk in his room, leaving his cousin and foster sister, sitting on the floor, sobbing hysterically. Alphonse's father sighed. "That boy."His brow furrowed in exasperation. "He'll be the death of me, I say." The man looked at the weeping girl on the ground, his eyes softening with pity. "Basira." He said, turning to the slave woman as she ran over to scoop up the little girl.

"Yes, Saint Ambroise." She said, prostrating herself to the ground.

"Basi." Ambroise said, his voice down to a tender whisper. "How many times have I told you never to do that with me, especially when we're alone?" The violet-haired, tan woman looked up at him, her eyes wrought with pained restraint. She said nothing, though Ambroise noticed the blush rising in her cheeks. He grinned and reached down to lift her off the floor, the tearful little girl nestled snug and tight in her arm. "Basi, please. Will you sing to her? You're the only one who can calm her down."

Basira nodded. She rocked the little child in her arms and looked her in the eyes. "Adie, would you like that?" The little girl nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes. Basira took a breath and began singing, her voice filling the playroom with her native tongue, a cheery song about a forest where unicorns frolicked and little girls flew with the aid of fairy dust. By the time Basira had finished, the little girl was asleep in her arms.

Ambroise bent down and looked the slave woman in the eye. "You are incredible." He whispered, caressing her cheek.

Tan cheeks flushed with a shade of pink. "Ambie. What if someone sees us?"

"You are my concubine. Does it matter?"

"But m'lady Gisèle could…"

"My jealous wife? Don't worry about her." Ambroise wrapped his arm around Basira's waist, pulling back when he saw her wince in pain. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No, Ambie. It's nothing."

"Let me see." He pulled up her shirt and scowled at the dark bruise that had formed where Alphonse's pointed loafer had kicked repeatedly. "Basi, what happened? I want the truth." He spoke with a commanding tone, the snarl of a Celestial Dragon accustomed to bending the world to his iron will.

"I was playing horsie with Alphonse," Ambroise's brow furrowed at the mention of his rambunctious son, "and he kicked me for not going faster."

"That insolent boy!" Ambroise spat. "Oops, I'm sorry." He whispered after catching a seething glare from Basira. "I forgot she was sleeping."

Basira sighed, "He probably would have bruised me a lot more if it wasn't for Adie."

"Oh?" Ambroise said. "What happened?"

"She pushed him off of me."

Ambroise chuckled. "That little child, it's like she knows." He quickly regretted what he said. The horror in Basira's face was like a knife through his heart. "I'm sorry, Basi. I-"

"That can _never_ happen."

"I know, my dear."

"Promise me!"

"I promise." A tear formed in Basira's eye. Without missing a beat, the woman choked it back. A slave was not afforded the luxury of lacrimation. Tears and unchecked displays of emotions were reserved for Celestial Dragon brats who faced no consequences for their lack of composure. Ambroise stared at the woman. The past seven years she'd endured as a slave had been surprisingly kind to her. Despite all the pain she'd experienced, the ordeal had done nothing to mar her beauty. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

Basira looked directly into his eyes, continuing to rock the child in her arms. "Why do I do what?"

If Ambroise had been any other Celestial Dragon, he would have had Basira beaten senseless for the attitude she was giving him. But he was not another master and they were alone. And in these times, _she_ was his mistress. _She_ was his queen. "Why did you refuse to be declared my concubine like the agreement between Mariejois and Amira stated? Why do you keep lowering yourself, my love. You are not a filthy human. You are a goddess."

"My dear Saint Ambroise." Her mouth turned up into a smile. "How deceived you are." Ambroise frowned. "I am no goddess. I am one of these 'filthy humans' you so vainly despise. I _was_ a princess once, but that was ages ago, before my father, before Amira's greedy king, sold his first daughter off to Mariejois as tribute, a bargaining chip for the acceptance of his country into the World Government."

"But," Ambroise protested sweetly, "if your old and fat father, Minas, hadn't done that, I might've never laid eyes on you, my love."

Basira rolled her eyes and whispered, an air of seriousness overtaking her previously spunky demeanor. "Ambie, if I were to do that, if I were to live as your official concubine, how long do you think it'd be before your friends, before the Gorosei found out about Adie?"

"They won't. I can guarantee that. You _know_ my brother's ship was blown to pieces by pirate vermin on route to visit Alabasta. Both him and his wife are dead. Six years ago, I told everyone that Adie was _his _daughter and adopted her as my own. We've been over this, there's no problem." Ambroise pleaded.

Basira wasn't convinced. "I can't take that risk. If anyone found about Adie, she'd lose her title as a Celestial Dragon. Her freedom would be in jeopardy. And not even you, who have the direct ear of the Gorosei and favor among the Eighteen Families, would be able to stop _that._"

Ambroise scowled. His logic clearly wasn't winning her over. He sighed. "Why are you so stubborn? You deserve to live as royalty. You were first in line to be Queen of Amira"

"And as a princess of Amira, how could I live with myself, knowing that in this same Mariejois, while I lived richly, many of my friends and countrymen were in chains?"

Ambroise snorted. "Not everyone was born with the blood of the gods. Some are destined to rule. Others are destined to be subjugated. The weak exist to give food to the strong."

"And _that_, my love," the Amiran princess whispered, "Is why I do this for Adie. So she will never have to face the wrath of this den of beasts, this palace of dragons."

Ambroise eyes dimmed. He could never understand her sense of justice. How could she do this? How could she willingly endure slavery and abasement, when power was being offered, hers for the taking? Even though he thought her reasoning riddled with folly, he couldn't shake the deep sense of purity about her, something he had never known. He leaned in and kissed her, then turned to take his leave. "I'll send the doctor over to look at that wound. I'll forbid Alphonse from playing with you. My love, I'll make sure you never have to endure that again."

Basira smiled and nodded. _But, my Ambie_, she thought. _Can you do that for the other slaves you own? Can you stop believing me to be different and extend your love to my people? What will it take to show you? What can I do to change your mind? _She looked down at the six year old, sound asleep in her arms. "Adie. _My_ Adie." She whispered, kissing the sleeping child on the forehead.

_My sweet little girl, your mother will keep you safe. _

_I won't let these monsters touch you._

_I won't let the dragons eat my child.  
><em>

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><p><strong>Wow. How about that intro the crazy world of Celestial Dragons.<em><br>_**

**To be honest, this chapter was not the easiest to write.**

**If you're keeping up with the One Piece manga, you know just how cruel and heartless Celestial Dragons. Being black and having to put myself in the mindset of a slaveowner was definitely challenging and unpleasant.**

**Next Thursday, I'll either switch to Dragon's perspective or write one more chapter from Adélaïde's. I haven't decided yet.**

**Anyway, did you guys enjoy this? Any thing you'd like to see me write about?**

**Don't be shy now! Pick up the Den-Den Mushi and give me a ring!**

**Read & Review!**


	5. The Hero of Foosha Village

AN: This chapter in the lives of Saint _Adélaïde & Monkey D. Dragon takes place the same night as the last one for _Adélaïde's part_ and the day after for Dragon's, 35 years before the start of One Piece._

Disclaimer: _One Piece and all characters (unless they're OCs) are the property of Echiro Oda. Props to him for being a badass._

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><p><strong>Dragons of the Void Century<strong>

**Chapter 04: The Hero of Foosha Village**

"And just where do you think you're going, young mistress? It's WAY past your bedtime." Basira's stern inquiry thwarted Adie's tiptoed prowl for the door. "You're not as sneaky as you'd like to think." The six year old, caught in the midst of her fourth bedroom escape attempt of the night, leaned up against the wall and giggled. Adie played with a lock of her long, wavy hair, twisting it up like a solid piece of black licorice. She flashed her brightest, cutest smile. Basira crossed her arms, then sighed. "Why are you such a handful?"

Adie blew Basira a raspberry and the violet-haired Amiran woman smiled in spite of herself. How could she stay mad at the little ball of vibrant energy? _My,_ she thought, shaking her head, _does your father really let you run wild like this?_ "Mama Basi, take me outside! I want to go on the balcony!"

Basi sighed. "Oh dear. What's outside?"

"Well, Uncle Donquixote said he's taking itsy-bitsy Rocinante and Doflamingo outside tonight, to see the way the Ora-bo-re-raw-ris, yeah I think that's what he said, to see it light up the sky and water."

Basira chuckled at the little girl's attempt to pronounce the geomagnetic phenomenon. "Adie, it's _Aurora Borealis._" Then she frowned slightly at the little girl's mention of the Donquixote brothers. "Adie."

"Yes, Mama Basi?"

"Are you playing with the young master, Doflamingo?"

Adie wrinkled up her nose, as if catching a whiff of something foul. "Ew, gross. Doffy's a meanie!" Basi sighed in relief. At four years old, Donquixote Doflamingo was already a terror. She'd heard horror stories from the other slaves of playtimes gone awry, tales of fingers and toes, chunks of skin, and ears missing after beatings that made Alphonse's penchant for kicking slaves with his pointed, sea king-hide loafers look like a kind and gentle caress from a loving child. _Good girl_, Basira thought, _alread_y a _wise judge of character, just like her a mother._ She let herself feel the elation of that thought, before burying it down in the deep crevasse of her longing to be known by her daughter. _No, Basi! You made a promise, remember? _Basira regained her composure. She struggled to tame the beast consuming her, to suppress the daily pain of not being recognized for who she truly was. _Even if she'll never know my voice to be more than a slave's, my girl will grow up free. I'll see to it! _

As if replying to the Amiran woman's thoughts, Adie chirped matter of factly, "I only go because I like playing with little Roci and Auntie Donquixote is so nice and beautiful. I want to be like her when I grow up! I don't know how Doffy's from the same family as Roci and Uncle and Auntie."

While Basira was relieved to hear about the six year old's ability to choose her friends with care, the thought of her taking on yet another Celestial Dragon woman as a mother figure stabbed at that old wound. She quickly changed the subject. "Adie, do you still want to go outside?"

"Yeah!" She chimed excitedly. "Pretty please, can we go?!"

"You're such a handful." Basira said, smiling warmly. "Okay, if we go look at the lights for a few minutes, you have to promise you'll stop sneaking off late at night. Oh, and you'll eat your vegetables, and –"

"I PROMISE!" Adie interrupted impatiently.

"Pinkie swear?" Basira teased.

"Can we just go outside already?" Adie pouted. Basira laughed and scooped the six year old up. She was warm; the way the little child snuggled close to Basira when she held her in her arms tugged at that forbidden place in her heart, threatening to unhinge the floodgates. For a moment, Basira could see herself setting the child down and telling her. What would be the harm?

"Mama Basi, whatcha thinking 'bout?" Adie's question jolted Basira out of her maternal longings and back to the task at hand. She smiled at the child.

"Nothing, hun. I've just had a long day and I'm a little tired. That's all." They were on the balcony now and the soft murmur of the ocean waves hitting against the shore could still be heard, even with how high up they were in the palace.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stop Alphie." The guilt in the little girl's eyes nearly dislodged Basira's heart. She leaned in close to the child in her arms.

"Hey, Adie, listen to me. Listen very closely. What Alphie did was not your fault. You tried your best to stop him. I'm a big girl. I can handle him."

"But-" Adie protested.

"Shush." Basira put her index finger to her lips. Then she cracked a wide smile. "Besides, look at the colors!"

Adie looked in the sky, spellbound by the circus of different shades and hues dancing and frolicking in the late night, pre-dawn sky. She was entranced by the reflection and refraction of the lights on the seawater. Basira and the little girl spent quite a bit of time in awed laughter, Adie enthralled by the lights and Basira exceedingly grateful for the existence of such an innocent wonder in the midst of a landscape of carnivorous opulence and violent excess.

"Adie, do you want to go to sleep now?" Basira said, seeing the child's eyelids were starting to flutter.

"Mama Basi, is it true there's a whole ocean out there, past the palace?"

"Yes, young mistress. There is!"

"My teacher at school told us there's a scary ocean past the palace called, 'The Grand Line' and that there are four other oceans, I think she called them 'Blues', that go on in all four directions."

"Your teacher's right, hun."

"Which Blue are you from, Mama Basi?"

Basira paused, caught off guard by the little girl's sudden inquiry. She could feel the pain in her chest beginning to writhe itself free from the restraints she'd placed on it. How much could she trust herself to say without spilling too much? How much was okay? "The South Blue." She spoke after some thought, hoping she'd made the right call. "I'm from the South Blue."

"South. Blue." Adie said slowly, trying to picture the sea in her mind. "Have you been to any other of the Blues?" Basira sighed in relief at the six year old's pea-sized attention span. She wasn't going to pray any further.

"Yes." She acknowledged. "The East Blue."

"The East Blue? That's REALLY far from the South Blue." Basira laughed at the child's exaggerated emphasis. "How'd you end up there?"

"Well, it's kind of a long story, you see, the East Blue…"

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><p><em>I am the East Blue.<em> The placid sound of the clear, azure waves playfully careening against the maize colored beach, echoed in Dragon's ears. With its every undulation, the sea continued its jovial, yet lonely melody. _I am the East Blue._ A round repeated itself, sung perpetually by every rippling curvature, an endless chorus of azure cantors who existed solely to carry the soft oceanic tune, before losing themselves in a gush of beached up foam. The music continued, day in, day out. It rang out quietly, regardless of who was listening, irrespective of the audience. On this warm afternoon, a twelve year old boy happened to be the only auditor in attendance, not that he minded. Like a silent and unspoken agreement between two comrades, the sea kept on singing and Dragon kept on listening.

The quiet was interrupted by the squawking of several boisterous seagulls, chasing each other in the Columbia-blue sky. Dragon eyed their romp with fascination, watching as the seabirds pecked and cawed, each daring the others to fly lower, now higher, then back around to the same spot, in a game of daring bravado. _Lucky bastards_. He thought. They could leave Foosha Village, at any time, coming and going as they pleased. _There's a whole world out there._ He thought._ Someday, I'm gonna leave this little sea. _ He imagined himself, wings mounted to his back, cutting through the air like the Icarus of legends, without the wax melting and crashing to earth part, of course. He'd even heard his father Garp say, coming home from one of his trips to the Grand Line, a vastly unexplored sea that made the most seasoned sailors go white with trepidation, there were reports of islands in the sky whose inhabitants had real wings.

Dragon smirked. What a load of crap. _The old man and his crazy tales._ Dragon took a swig of his water bottle and a bite of his sandwich. Sandwiches never tasted the same as they had when she'd made them for him. He sighed, stifling the pangs that gripped his chest. Annoyed at having finished his water, he threw the crinkled plastic bottle to the ground, watching it bounce across the sand. He eyed it for a few minutes, before guiltily picking it up and dropping it into his knapsack. Try as he might, even with her no longer here with him, he couldn't litter. His mind drifted to a family picnic they'd taken a few years ago, on this very beach. Dragon remembered the lengths she'd gone to pick up the hodgepodge of debris strewn across the beach before they'd left, most of it from other families. Brat of a child he'd been then, annoyed by the care she took in the condition of the beach. What he should've been focusing on was his father's smile, the twinkle in his eye as he watched her loving heart spill out all over the littered sand. _Child of the Sea_. That's what the old man had called her, a compliment, for those who knew Monkey D. Garp, not dished out lightly.

Those were happier times, before the town doctor had come to their house with a foreboding message. He'd found the malignant mass in her brain too late. He'd urged Garp to keep her as comfortable as possible for her remaining months and the sailor had decided not to tell her. He should've known better. How could he have ever hoped to keep the spreading cancer a secret from his wife?

As a little girl, she'd eaten the Horm-Horm fruit. A strange artifact her bandit of a father had stolen from a noble who'd lost his way meandering into Mount Colombo, the fruit had given her the ability to produce miraculous hormones in her own body. She'd used its power to save countless lives on her weekly visits to the Gray Terminal.

Her patients ranged from children with slightly mischievous tendencies to the most hardened ruffians and hooligans the Gray Terminal had ever produced. No matter how foul-mouthed, rough, or ill-mannered, Monkey D. Lucia never failed to get a warm smile, heartfelt laugh or earnest tear out of those who came to her for healing. Garp had never understood her altruism to what he saw as criminals beyond help. In fact, he'd feared what being exposed to the dregs of society and the toxic fumes emanating from the garbage dump and its frequently sprouting refuse fires, would do to her. Time and time again, he'd pleaded with her to stay home, all to no avail. Every time, her kindness won him over. He couldn't resist her reassuring pearly white, smile, nor could he bring himself to shut off the glow on her face when she'd talked about how 'little Sarah' could finally walk on her own two feet or how 'One-Eye Jim' no longer felt the need to drown himself in alcohol every day. As for her son, as annoyed as Dragon was with always finding his favorite cookies and sandwich meat missing, only to later realize his mom had once again taken them to the Gray Terminal, or waking up in the middle of the night to hear a strange child snoring loudly on the bed next to him, he knew his mother loved him more than a fishman loved the sea, and so, deep down, he didn't mind sharing her with the less fortunate.

Dragon took another bite of his sandwich, his thoughts continuing to roam freely.

He thought back to all the hushed conversations his father and mother were having then. At the time, Dragon had been too young to realize what was happening, too naïve to realize that with every trip his mother took to the Gray Terminal, she came back just a little more fatigued than the last. But she'd known. She'd been completely aware of the toll her work was taking on her body. The compounded effect of the toxic fumes emanating from the Gray Terminal, her small build, and the hormones the Horm-Horm was producing in her body was swiftly shaving years off her life. Coming home tired, she hid her fatigue to spend time playing with her beloved son, no matter how much her body ached. Knowing how little time she had left, Lucia had sat Garp and Dragon down and told them how much she loved them, how much she wanted them to be happy, as father and son, to joyfully live the years she no longer had.

Dragon stood up and tossed a rock as far as he could, watching a few surprised seagulls dart out of the way, squawking in utter annoyance. _Dumb birds_, he thought, scowling. He watched the rock skip a few times, before plummeting into the depths of the azure water.

After that talk, his father had thrown himself into his work with Navy. Dragon had never understood how his father, when his mother had needed him most, had decided going off to sea for weeks at a time was a good idea. Dragon had been there in her final moments, seen her smile as widely as ever and kiss his hand, urging him to be a good man 'like his father'. What a joke. He wasn't sure he'd ever be like the old man. I mean, what kind of husband leaves his wife when she's dying. Was being a marine really more important than family? Dragon knew his father loved him and his mother. He often felt guilty for thinking this way. Still, he wasn't sure if he'd forgiven him for arriving a few days after his mother had died. Hell, even the large group of mourners from the Gray Terminal had crowded outside the house the night after she'd passed.

Dragon threw another rock, now with more force, anger coursing through his arm. This time the rock plunked into the ocean, disappearing from view as rapidly as he'd thrown it. _It's not fair!_ His mind screamed. With everything his mom had done for others, it was incomprehensible that she'd died at such a young age. What'd she ever do to hurt someone else? It all seemed like some sick cosmic joke, like some crude, cruelly-mischievous deviant of a death god, sitting somewhere off in a gray barren wasteland, had decided to write his mother's name, along with the word 'cancer', in his notebook, just to ease his boredom.

A tear streamed down Dragon's cheek and he quickly wiped it away. He would not cry. Not here. Not today. _I'm sorry, mom._ Dragon thought. _I suck at being strong._ "Hey, Dragon!" The excited shriek of a twelve year old girl knocked Dragon out of his melancholy. He turned around to see a pair of cocoa haired pigtails running down the hill to the beach.

Andrea 'Drea' Slap had been Dragon's friend since before they could speak. Their fathers were longtime buddies and Drea had become something like a sister to Dragon over these years.

"Hey, Drea!" Dragon waved.

The pig-tailed girl ran up to Dragon and gave him a big hug.

"Your dad's looking for ya."

"Oh boy." Dragon sighed. Then he proceeded to tickle Drea with a smirk on his face.

"STAHP!" She squelched in mock protest. "You know I'm ticklish!"

They laughed and giggled as they walked over to _Party's Bar_, one of the most popular places to hang out in their small beachside town. Upon entering they found their fathers at the counter, the alcohol clearly goading them into an impassioned argument.

"Garp, you fool!" Woop Slap spat, his white and purple striped beanie nearly falling off his head. "You're crazy if you think anyone could ever sail to the end of the Grand Line! That sea's too wild!"

"Woop, don't be such a baby!" Garp taunted, a wide smile playing on his face. "Someone's gonna do it eventually! I'd rather it be a marine than some lowlife pirate hoping to make a name for his crew!" Laughter filled the bar as the crowd of onlookers braced themselves for the usual banter and wordplay between the two friends.

"They're at again!"

"Give it a rest, already. I'm trying to watch the game!" Another man quipped.

Dragon and Drea looked at each other. Drea rolled her eyes.

A stunningly beautiful, buxom woman in her late teens with bright, ginger hair walked up to the counter and took a seat. "Hey bartender!" She belted. "I'll have three beers, a large steak, and a big side of fries please!" She ignored the lustful glances aimed at her, eagerly awaiting her meal.

"Hey, Dadan!" Garp laughed. "You keep eating like that, you're gonna end up a big ol' woman in your fifties! Ain't that right, Woop?"

Caught in a chorus of guffaws, Woop could barely speak. "She's gonna end up a buff, man-looking woman if she keeps eating like that AND hanging around with those bandits up on Mount Colombo!"

The entire bar was now one big chorus of laughter, with its two ringleaders, doubled over at the counter, tears streaming down their cheeks, beside themselves with glee.

Dadan was not amused. "If I'm gonna be big and fat," she spat, "then you'll be the mayor of Foosha. There's no way this body'll ever be fat, let alone man-like."

Her retort was in vain. The banter continued to escalate in a crescendo of laughter. She took a beer-filled mug and hurled it at Garp. It broke against his forehead, splattering him with beer. He continued eating his cookies, laughing hysterically at the scowl on Dadan's face.

Dragon shot her a sympathetic look, shaking his head at his father's buffoonery. Dadan motioned for him and Drea to come and sit with her. "At least _you've_ got my back, Dragie." She shot Garp a dirty look, which only sent him and Woop into more rounds of free-flowing laughter. Dadan sighed.

"Sorry, Aunt Dadan." Dragon sympathized. "And yeah, I'm on your side."

"You kids have always been good, unlike your sorry excuse for fathers over there."

"You run into any nobles on the mountain, today?"

Dadan paused for a second. "Nah. They don't seem to come around that way much anymore. Not like when your mother and I were kids."

Dragon nodded. Curly Dadan was his mom's cousin and had grown up with her like a little sister. When Lucia had passed, she stepped into the role of Dragon's big sister, taking care of him right alongside Garp. She had a big heart, despite the people she stole from or beat up on Mount Colombo.

"How about any wild animals?" Drea interjected excitedly.

"Girl, you're always itching for a story." Dadan remarked with a warm smile. She had a real soft spot for the kind and bubbly girl. "No, I haven't run into any tigers or bears in a while. They're all getting ready to hibernate for the long winter."

"Aw, man." Drea pouted, disappointed with her prospects for hearing a good story.

"Hey Drea, wanna go for a walk?"

She nodded excitedly. The two left the counter, said goodbye to Dadan and their fathers and made their exit.

The town was fairly quiet on this Wednesday night, most people were either at the bar or spending the evening inside with their families. With very few people to stop and greet, Dragon and Drea found themselves at the base of Mount Colombo in an extremely short amount of time.

Dragon found the familiar trail he followed to go to Dadan's house and the two found themselves laughing and carrying on along the way. A few hours went by and seemingly, with very little warning, the sun was setting. "Dragon, it's late. My dad's gonna start worrying if we don't head back soon."

"Yeah, you're right, let's start climbing down."

The two had barely started making their way down when a voice called out to them. "Hey, little guy. What's a squirt like you doing with a very lovely lady like this?"

Dragon stopped, tensing up. "Drea, get behind me. Now." He turned around, trying to find the source of the voice, gently scooting his friend to his rear.

A middle aged man sauntered out of the shadowy woods, grinning gleefully at Dragon, eyeing the frightened, pigtailed girl with a look of perverse fascination. He was dressed in fine cloth, sporting a black top hat, red jacket, and white cravat. This was no Foosha villager, Dragon observed. The cologne he wore reeked of money as pungently as the smell of hard liquor seeping from his pores.

_A noble!_ Dragon thought. "That's a pretty friend ya got there." He mused, slurring his words. "Mind if I take her home with me?"

Dragon said nothing. His eyes locked on the man in front of him. He turned to the frightened girl behind him and gave her a reassuring look. Whatever happened, he would keep her safe.

The man continued walking towards the two kids, eyeing them like one of the giant tigers of Mount Colombo readying himself to devour a snack. "I'm a noble! That means I get whatever I want. That means you have to DO whatever I want!" The man chortled to himself, laughing at his humorless statement like a bad stand up comedian.

"Leave us alone. I'm not responsible for what happens next." Dragon stated, addressing the noble for the first time.

The noble laughed, finding Dragon's threat comical. "What's a little brat like you going to do to me? I'm a noble; you're TRASH!"

Dragon backed away, gently pushing Drea further behind him. "I'm warning you. Leave us alone."

The noble took a swig from a liquor-filled flask, before continuing to walk towards the boy and girl. He smiled and whistled jovially before lunging at the two children.

"I SAID, LEAVE US ALONE!" Dragon shouted, letting fly a fist, one his father had taught him to use via hours of sparring, to hit the man squarely in the face. But, before he could reach the drunkard, Dragon noticed something odd. The drunken noble had staggered back in shock, eyes bulging out of his head, body going limp as his limbs would no longer obey his commands. Before Dragon knew it, the noble lay crumpled on the ground.

_Is he dead?_ Dragon thought. No, the man was still breathing. He took a stick and poked him. No response. Out cold. "Hey, Drea, did you see that?! Wasn't that wei–" Dragon couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence. Drea lay on the ground as unconscious as the drunken noble. _What the heck is going on?_ Dragon thought nervously. He put his friend on his back and briskly walked away, leaving the noble passed out.

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><p>The sound of chirping crickets filled Dragon's ear as he navigated his way through the dark. He could see the lights from <em>Party's Bar<em> just up ahead. He hoped his dad and Mr. Slap would still be there. "Dragon," the girl on his back moaned drowsily, "what happened. Why're you carrying me?"

"You fell unconscious." Dragon responded curtly, hoping he wouldn't have to explain whatever happened on the mount. _He_ didn't even have an answer.

"Oh yeah, all I remember is that creepy man came after me and you about to punch him." _Phew_, Dragon thought, sighing in relief. _She doesn't remember_. "Dragon, you saved me!"

"What? No, I didn't." Dragon laughed nervously. "It's nothing! You're my friend."

Drea sniffled, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You're the best friend ever!" Dragon awkwardly nodded, doing the best to comfort his friend. _Oh boy, here we go._ He thought. He smiled. As much of a crybaby as Drea could be, she was sincere and wore her big heart right on her sleeve.

Dragon and Drea entered the bar and Woop's eyes narrowed immediately. "Hey, Dragon! Why the heck is my daughter crying?"

Dragon was about to respond when Drea blurted, "DADDY!" She shrieked. "It was horrible!" _Crap_, Dragon thought. _She's gonna blab!_ Dragon chided himself for not having told her to keep what happened between them. "Dragon and I went to Mount Colombo, for a walk."

"What?!" Woop exclaimed.

"Daddy, it's okay, we do it all the time."

"What?!" Dragon felt a bunch of eyes settling on him. He stared down at his shoes, trying hard to avoid his father's gaze. Garp was definitely going to let him have a few 'fists of love' when they got home.

"But daddy, listen! A strange and creepy man came towards me and said I had to do whatever he wanted. He said he was a noble! But, Dragon saved me! He punched the man and carried me here because I passed out. I was so scared."

Woop's eyes softened as his daughter ran to him sobbing. He looked at the embarrassed Dragon. "Hey, kid."

"Yes, Mr. Slap?"

"I'm glad my daughter's friends with you. Who knows what could've happened if you hadn't been there?" He cracked a wide smile.

"So ya punched a noble, huh?" Garp shouted, his mouth full of cookies.

Dragon nodded.

"You saved Drea?"

Dragon said nothing.

"Well, boy?" Garp pried.

"I guess, dad. OW!" Dragon rubbed his head, an enormous amount of swelling already making its way up through his hair.

"That's my fist of love!" Garp let loose a bellowing laugh. The whole of _Party's Bar_ erupting into boisterous howl. "I'm proud of ya son, you'll make a fine marine one day."

"Get yourself something, Dragon. Whatever you want, it's on me." Woop encouraged.

Dragon nodded and took a seat at a table in the corner, taking in the sights and sounds of the bar. Despite the loud and obnoxious people carrying on, he found his mind drifting somewhere else, recalling a distant memory.

_"What happened at school today?" Monkey D. Lucia sternly asked her son, hands on her hips._

_"Nothing, mom." Dragon denied evasively. Despite his best attempts at deceit, the cuts on his face and the tatters in his jeans gave away his blatant fib. Even if his nose had stretched like Pinocchio, his lie wouldn't have been more obvious._

_"Dragon! Don't lie to me. Jason's mom came and talked to me today. She said you got into another fight. Is that true?"_

_Dragon nodded, his cheeks going red with shame._

_"Why were you fighting?"_

_"They were picking on George again. They took his glasses and wouldn't give 'em back! So I made 'em."_

_"Aw, Dragie." Lucia cooed with sweet understanding. "You're such a good boy. You're a troublemaker and you make your mom worry, but you're a GOOD boy. How'd those bullies look, worse than you?"_

_"Yeah!" The nine year old chirped." I gave Jason a black eye!"_

_Lucia shook her head. "Your father's going to worry if I tell him. He doesn't need any more stress with everything he's doing at the base." Dragon nodded pensively. "Dragie, I'll let you in on a little secret." She winked at the boy. " You got bandit blood from your mama! Sometimes, the heroes aren't the ones who follow every little rule. Sometimes the rule-followers are most afraid of getting in trouble for doing what's right. Sometimes, the good guys are the ones who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty to help those who have no one on their side, even when the rules, when those in charge, say it's wrong. We won't tell your father about this. It'll be our little secret."_

Dragon smiled, remembering his mother's words. How he missed her way of seeing things.

_I wanna make you proud, mom._ He thought.

_I'm gonna be a hero.  
><em>

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><p><strong>Sorry for this chapter being a day late, had some personal stuff going on.<strong>

On another note, I couldn't decide between writing about Adélaïde or Dragon, so I thought, why not both?

**If you read this week's chapter of One Piece, you probably appreciated my references to Doffy and his brother.**

**Also, don't you just feel BAD for Basira? Could you imagine having to be your daughter's slave, unable to tell her you're her mother? That has to be rough.**

**How about Dragon unleashing his Conqueror's Haki for the first time, eh? **

**To be honest, that came as a total surprise to me too! That was nowhere near what I had planned for the chapter, but when I thought of Mount Colombo, the Post-War arc came to mind and I thought of how Ace unknowingly used his Conqueror's Haki to knock out the Bluejam Pirates.**

**My OC Monkey D. Lucia (Dragon's mom) being the previous user of the Horm-Horm fruit was also a complete surprise to me. But if you think about it, isn't it cool, the same fruit that Dragon's mom ate is the same fruit that would heal Luffy in Impel Down and Marineford? I think that's pretty dope?**

**How many of you guys found my _Death Note_ reference? ;) It's hidden in there somewhere. Find it!**

**I made Dandan beautiful because she had dreams of her being a fair maiden in the Post-War arc and I thought, who knows? Maybe she was longing for her youth?**

**Well, I don't want to talk too much longer, so pick up the Den-Den Mushi!**

**Read! Review! Let me know what you think!**


	6. Family Ties, Strings of Divine Rejects

AN: _This chapter in the lives of Saint Adélaïde & Monkey D. Dragon takes place six years after the last, 29 years before the start of One Piece._

Disclaimer: _One Piece and all characters (unless they're OCs) are the property of Echiro Oda. Props to him for being a badass.  
><em>

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><p><strong>Dragons of the Void Century<strong>

**Chapter 05: Family Ties, Strings of Divine Rejects**

"Son, we're not in Foosha. This is _not_ one of your street fights. I won't go easy on ya just for being _my_ kid." Garp taunted, dodging a shiny, jet-black fist as it careened towards him. "Remember who taught ya to use those hands? You'll have to be quicker than that." The resounding chorus of laughter from his father's subordinates was testing Dragon's patience. _The old man's not even breaking a sweat. _Dragon thought, ire boiling as his father's shrewd and offhand evasion pushed him way past the bounds of frustration.

"They don't call Rear Admiral Garp, 'the Fist', for nothin'", a scraggly haired marine yelled out.

"Give it up kid, your old man's WAY outta your league." Another jeered, followed by another round of guffaws.

Dragon did his best to ignore them. The eighteen year old threw another volley of strikes, watching angrily as Garp toyed with him, letting Dragon's blows come dangerously close to his face, effortlessly sliding out of the way at the last second, all with his eyes closed. "Eyesight's a great tool, son!" Garp laughed. Dragon could feel his blood boiling.

"Quit screwing with me, old man!" He shouted, another black fist hurtling towards Garp's face.

Garp continued his lesson. "A marine's who's trained his eyes to their outermost reaches gains a huge advantage over the enemy." Garp laughed, dodging Dragon's Haki-laden slug as casually as a fleeting afterthought. "But what'll you do if ya can't see?" He caught Dragon's fist in his hand like a seasoned baseball star effortlessly scooping up a grounded ball.

"Let go! Stopping messing around!" Dragon snatched his fist back angrily.

"It's called the _Color of Observation_, mastered by many a great marine. You're gonna have to do the same if you want a shot at hitting me." Garp laughed, taking a crunchy bite of cookie. "With this kind of Haki, you can sense objects, no matter where they are or how fast they're moving. It's sight beyond seeing, a sense not ruled by the limits of your other five."

Dragon wasn't listening. _If I get him off guard for a second, I might be able to force an opening._ His mind plotted, synapses firing as he maneuvered to and fro, hardly a second to catch his breath. _I won't lose. Not this time._ Dragon feinted left, using the _shave-step_, a Rokushiki move his dad had been teaching him. Garp swerved right to avoid Dragon's feigned punch. _Got ya_. Dragon smiled as his right hook caught Garp's left cheek.

Garp laughed. "Not bad, son. Not bad. Your shave's getting A LOT better, along with your ability to use the _Color of Armament_. I'm so proud!" He smiled widely, taking a bite of another cookie. "But even with all that, son, your head must be made of rubber. Your hot blooded temper still doesn't get it." Garp smiled, turning his head in Dragon's direction.

Dragon grunted in frustration. _Dammit, Old man! _Garp's right cheek, more specifically, only the spot where Dragon's fist had landed, was glossy black with Haki. Dragon shave-stepped in the other direction.

"Wow, the Rear Admiral's brat ain't that bad." A bald marine remarked, watching the two fighters skirt and dart as high speed blurs.

"He's a natural!"

"But he's still years away from catching our Garp."

"Would all you morons SHUT UP?!" Dragon yelled.

Garp laughed. "Dragon, let 'em be! They ain't doing ya harm. Besides, _I'm_ the one you're fighting." He shave-stepped abruptly, nearly catching Dragon with a black-fisted left hook. _The old man's lost his mind!_ Dragon shrugged off the punch, doing his best to feign confidence. But inwardly, his mind still lingered on what he'd manage to narrowly avoid. _That punch would've put me to sleep!_

"Time to end this!" Dragon shouted. Wasting no time, he shave-stepped frantically, weaving his way around the Rear Admiral. Letting loose a loud, barbaric roar, he charged towards Garp, completely ignoring the fact that many of Garp's subordinates were now tumbling to the ground, eyes bulging from their heads. _That's it, son._ Garp beamed proudly. _Release your Haki. Show me your Will, your resolve to rise above others! _"Shave!" Dragon shouted as he side-stepped suddenly, aiming a buffet towards his father. His entire arm was now covered in black sheen.

The grinning marine met Dragon's fist with his own, hitting it knuckle to knuckle. The shockwave reverberated around the two, knocking more marines off their feet. The ground quaked furiously, large rocks and slabs reduced to gravel, the grassy field torn up and tossed around in a whirl. "I'm winning this one, old man!" Dragon shouted, smiling defiantly.

Garp laughed, returning his son's smile. "You've gotten a lot stronger son, I'll give you that." He pushed against his son's fist. Dragon, feeling Garp apply more force, dug his feet into the ground tenaciously, obstinately forcing the weight back_. I won't lose. I CAN'T lose._ He pushed against his father's fist, shoving the Rear Admiral back. "But you want to know something?" Garp continued. _Don't let him get inside your head_, Dragon thought. _Just knock him off his feet and you've won._ "Your Will's still decades too young to shake mine!" Garp laughed and exerted forward with more of his might.

"NO!" Dragon shouted, watching his feet give out from under him. Sprawled out on the floor, he yelled in frustration. "Bullshit!"

Some of Garp's subordinates were just now starting to regain consciousness. "Is it over?" A muscular, red-haired marine asked.

"He really is the Rear Admiral's brat."

"Easy, kiddo." Garp comforted, extending a hand to help his son up. "You did good today. You've gotten a lot stronger, landing a hit on your old man. I couldn't be any more proud."

Dragon swatted his father's hand away, leaping up to his feet. "Cut the shit, dad. You were toying with me the whole time."

Garp frowned. _Son, why are you so angry?_ "Some of it." He took a bite of a cookie.

"Some of what?" Dragon asked hostilely.

"Some of the time." Garp corrected. "I wasn't toying with you the whole time. I actually had to go half speed towards the end. Most of my underlings can't even get me to do _that_." A few marines grumbled sheepishly, agreeing with Garp's statement. "Come on, son, let it go." He put his hand on Dragon's shoulder, shocked when Dragon violently wrenched it away.

"Go to hell, old man!" Dragon spat, hurting more from his bruised pride than the aching, black and blue lumps he saw all over his body. "Someday, I'll be strong enough to kick your ass!"

Rafael 'Raf' Slap, Drea's older brother and Rear Admiral Garp's subordinate, put his hands on Dragon's shoulders, gently attempting to keep the brawny eighteen year old from storming off. "Hey, Drag, chill. You're old man's just trying to–"

"GET OFF ME!" Lowering his right shoulder in a quick charge, Dragon sent the twenty six year old flying onto the grass.

"Dragon!" Garp shouted, his face wrenched into a fierce, commanding scowl. "Get ahold of yourself! If you want to lead as a 'great marine' someday, maybe even as an admiral, you've got to control your anger, put a lid on your emotions! Ya lost! So what? Get stronger!" _Dammit. You're as stubborn as your mother._ Garp thought. He didn't dare say it. He'd only set his son off even more.

"I WILL!" Dragon shouted, left panting by his tantrum. "But not so I can become a stupid marine like you. I'll get stronger because _I_ want to!" He stormed off, shoving marines left and right.

"What a brat!" A man sporting a grey fedora and sheathed katana on his waist remarked.

"Hey, Bogart." Garp growled at his most trusted subordinate.

"Yes, Garp, sir?"

"He's _my_ brat." The deadly intent radiating from Garp's glowering face was more than enough to make Bogart's skin moist with perspiration, the color draining from his visage. "If you don't want a taste of my fist, I suggest you mind your tongue."

"Yes-Yes sir! Absolutely, sir." _The Rear Admiral's so scary when he's not smiling._

Garp sighed, the fierceness fading from his face. "That kid's got me so wound up and worried." His right hand palmed his forehead. _Lucia. Can I really handle him without you?_ The thought of his wife picked at that abyssal eight year old wound. _He listens to me less and less. What do I do?_ "Dragon has a _good_ heart; things just haven't been the easiest for him since his mother died. Sometimes, I wonder," Garp shook his head, "I wonder if I've been pushing him too hard. Maybe, more than he needs me to make him a great marine, Dragon needs me to be his dad."

Bogart let the Rear Admiral talk, listening silently. Despite what the overwhelming majority of what Garp's subordinates believed, 'the Fist' was as human as the rest of them.

"_She_ could deal with his anger, his rashness." Garp kept talking, still adrift in his thoughts. "She _always_ had the right words. He has so much potential as a marine, but he fights the discipline and order I'm trying to give him." He handed Bogart a cookie, which the subordinate politely declined. "He's too hot blooded, stubborn, and prone to brawling."

"Sounds really familiar…" Bogart quipped. Garp glared. The smile on Bogart's face disappeared quicker THAN the hope of a pirate caught in a waterspout storm on the Grand Line. Garp was just about to leave an obscene amount of Red Line-sized swelling protruding up from Bogart's fedora when a nearby Den Den Mushi began ringing obnoxiously. Bogart sighed with relief.

"Yeah? Garp here." The Real Admiral spoke into the snail.

"Garp, this is Admiral Zephyr." _A call from HQ?_ Garp thought, a bit confused as to what could have elicited such an occurrence. He scrolled through his memory, finding no explanation for this odd circumstance. _We just had our tri-monthly leader's meeting last week at Marineford._

"Hey, Admiral, what a surprise. I never expected we'd talk so soon. How are Sarah and Junior doing?"

"They're well, Garp." The Admiral spoke, his voice jumping with elation at the mention of his family. His voice then took on a graver tone, settling on the reason for his call. "Garp as much as I'd love to chit-chat and hear how you and Dragon have been doing, I'm afraid I need to jump straight to business." Zephyr took a long puff of his mahogany pipe before continuing. "Fleet Admiral Kong has been informed of a code-red State of Emergency in the World Capital. I'll need your muscle on my trip to the Palace."

"Oh?" Garp took a crunchy bite of a cookie. "What could those, narcissistic, man-eating gargoyles up at Mariejois possibly feel the need to bother us with this time?"

Zephyr smiled. "I see you still haven't found that filter. If it were anyone other than you saying that, they'd be court-martialed."

Garp snorted, his mouth curled up in a wide grin. "So what's going on?"

Zephyr took another drag. "Believe me, Garp, I'm with you. It's bad enough the Three Admirals are on standby for the World Nobles' every capricious whim. I'd rather not have to go up to that cesspool. I'd rather spend time at home with Sarah and my son than be faced with horrors and told to turn a blind eye in the name of 'Justice'." Zephyr's fist clenched angrily around the Den-Den Mushi he was holding. Borsalino, his young subordinate, put his hands up in alarm, reminding the Admiral of how many of the office's poor snails had lost their shells due to Zephyr's strength. Zephyr continued. "I know it's hard to believe, but apparently something took place today, a horror too foul for even these demons."

Garp shook his head, angrily crunching down on a cookie. "There are pirates running wild on the seas, raping and robbing innocent civilians of whatever their rotted-out hearts desire. I'm sure whatever these World Nobles have going on can wait."

"Garp, you know how much I wish I could take you up on that. I mean, these beasts have no qualms about throwing the world in disarray, absolutely no misgivings about seeing the rest of humanity as mere refuse. Now, they expect us to clean up their mess?"

* * *

><p><strong>What a mess it was.<strong>

The golden haired ten year old's tattered clothes were soaked with crimson, his opaque sunglasses, spattered with scarlet. It dripped everywhere, the small, roseate trails spilling out onto marble floor, collecting in minute puddles of coagulating red. The severed head stared wide-eyed, mouth agape, its visage petrified in a grimace of pained horror, rivulets of cardinal fluid dripping out of the sundered neck. Adélaïde had never seen so much blood. A cold shiver ran through her body as she stood, both entranced and aghast at the sight in front of her.

"I killed him!" The blonde child shouted; his mouth curled up in a psychotic grin. "I killed the heretic!" Those words, coupled with the pitter-patter plash of the dripping red drops, hit Adélaïde's heart harder than a punch from Claudios, the towering Elbathian who often served as one of Saint Alphonse's bodyguards.

The blonde haired child clutched the head in the air, showing it off to those present like a proud knight displaying the remains of a fearsome monster he'd slain in some dark and musky dungeon. The carnage's sanguine stench overpowered the smells of the sumptuous feast the meal-slaves had just finished serving in the spacious banquet hall. Adélaïde's stomach lurched. This all had to be some kind of mistake. Yes, that was it. Soon, she'd be awake, sweaty and hot beneath the covers of her large spacious bed with Mama Basi scolding her, blaming the previous night's terrifying house of horrors on a hot-fudge sundae after midnight and the spooky movie she'd watched with Céleste and Héloïse.

But no amount of pinching could wake her from this nightmare. This _was_ reality. The banquet hall now teamed with murmurs, drowning out the violin symphony the meal slaves had been playing, giving way to a ruffled commotion incited by the brutal scene of a psychotic whippersnapper holding his father's blood-drenched head.

"What is this vermin doing here?" Saint Jalmack, a stern and cold patriarch whose nasty children Adélaïde particularly disliked, barked irately, nearly choking on his gulp of wine. "We warned the Donquixote _traitor_ of what fate he could expect if he abdicated his Heavenly Throne on Mariejois, forsaking the religion of the Gods for some base desire to be _human_." He spoke that last word with utter revulsion, staring suspiciously in the golden goblet he held, as though searching for a fly that'd managed to wriggle its way inside. He took another deep slurp of wine before continuing. "But, he and that woman would not listen to the Truth. Now, look. He's dead and at the hands of his own child, no less! His vermin offspring had the sense to end his pathetic little life for leaving Paradise!" He took a big chomp of an obscenely large chicken drumstick, gnawing carnivorously at the skin, stuffing a big piece of heavily buttered garlic bread into his mouth, all before washing it all down with a gulp of wine. "I say, _good riddance!_" He waved the drumstick around like an orchestra conductor would during a pivotal part of a symphony, drawing laughter from those seated at her table.

Adélaïde looked down at her feet in shame. How could they laugh? Couldn't they see what was going on in front of them? Adélaïde had always known Doflamingo to be twisted, a terror of a child whose delight in torturing and mutilating slaves made Alphonse look as harmless as a decrepit Den-Den Mushi, but _patricide_? Was Doflamingo really capable of such barbarism, capable of killing his father, Saint Holming, a kind and generous man whose personal slaves were allowed to walk without their slave collars and accompany him on long journeys? How could these people, her friends and family, say he deserved this? How could they say _anyone_ deserved this?

These thoughts made Adélaïde's heart sink faster than a devil fruit user bound with Sea-Stone shackles, thrown into the most frigid lake. It had been two years since the Donquixote family'd made the decision to leave the World Capital. Adélaïde remembered being six, sitting on Aunt Donquixote's lap as she read to her and the three year old Rocinante. What had changed? What had happened in the time the Donquixotes had spent in the Outside World? Adélaïde remembered how much Doffy had loved his mother; why was she not here with him? Did he have her head somewhere too? Adélaïde shuddered at the thought.

"Can someone call Marineford?" Saint Gisèle, Adélaïde's adoptive mother and Saint Ambroise's wife, complained before daintily lifting a fork-stabbed slice of pork to her mouth, then dabbing her lips with her silk napkin. Unlike Jalmack, Gisèle had a distaste for classless conduct, largely stemming from an acute fear of how others perceived her. She'd always regarded Adélaïde's presence in the family as an inconvenient annoyance, similar to how one complained about a pointed pebble lodged at the bottom of a shoe." Tell them to get Admiral what's-his-name?"

"Zephyr's the new brute." Jalmack coughed, half-choking from cheeks filled with food.

Gisèle shot Jalmack the look one gives a cockroach that has burrowed into the depths of a decadent layer cake and emerged, covered in frosting. She inched as far away in her chair as she could from her piggish brother. "…Yes, call Admiral Zephyr and tell him to come and remove this _creature_ from the premises at once!"

_Creature?_ Adélaïde thought, her nose wrinkled up in disgust. She remembered how Gisèle had doted on the young Doflamingo, beating out the other World Noble matriarchs in importing expensive toys and gifts for the young master's birthday. Now, Gisèle didn't recognize him? Was he no longer worthy of her acknowledgment? Was her doting just another attempt to raise her standing among the other Celestial Dragon matriarchs?

Adélaïde watched as Doflamingo began to step forward, his hand dangling his father's head by the long, blood-caked blonde mane. The World Nobles began to rise in their seats, shouts of protest echoing throughout the banquet hall.

"Hey, _you_!" Saint Germain croaked. The tall, twiggy Celestial Dragon, sitting three tables over from Adélaïde, pointed a bony finger at the boy. "Don't come any closer!"

Doflamingo turned his head towards the elderly Noble. "Grandpa Germain, don't you remember me?" The boy's mouth was curled up in too wide of a smile for Adélaïde's comfort, as if the boy had been bopped on the head too many times or had had his mind traumatized beyond repair, his brain cooked past the point of no return. _Doffy, what happened to you?_ Adélaïde thought sadly.

"I don't haven't the foggiest idea who you are." Germain grunted. "What I do know is you're trespassing on property of the Capital, committing high treason against the World Government." The smile on Doflamingo's face had been supplanted by a look of utter shock. Germain continued, "I don't know how you got in here, but an Admiral is on his way. I highly suggest you leave before he gets here, _filth_."

Jalmack nodded with an approving grunt, digging into the pheasant on his plate. Gisèle smiled, taking a sip of her champagne, excited by the idea of the Admiral finally coming to remove the refuse so the festive atmosphere could return.

"Grandpa…" Doflamingo shouted, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Vermin! I have no grandson!" Germain spat. "Two of my grandsons died two years ago! They died when their waste of a father decided to take my daughter and their family away from the bliss of this Holy Mountain. Don't you dare say I have a grandson!" His face was now red with ire, his fists trembling with rage. He took a moment to catch his breath before speaking again. "Be grateful I've spoken to you, _human_. The Gods rarely take a moment to grace the likes of you with their sacred oracles. I've said all I need to say to you. The Navy will be here soon." With that, the Noble sat down.

Adélaïde could not believe her ears. Nobody, not even Doflamingo deserved to be spoken to that way. Wasn't he one of them? Wasn't he born divine, just like her? Mama Basi, her slave-nanny was a _human_, yet she held the kindest, bravest, most intelligent heart Adélaïde had known. Basi was kind to everyone, irrespective of whether they were born divine like Adélaïde or human like her. If a human woman could be like that, how could Doflamingo's grandpa, a being of divine origin, reject his own family, his own flesh and blood?

Please, Grandpa. Let us come home." Doflamingo pleaded, his voice quavering. "These past two years have been hard. Mama, _your_ daughter, got sick and died because of this _traitor's_ insolence." Doflamingo waved Holming's head around for rhetorical emphasis. "Roci and I nearly starved, were beaten by insolent _humans_, and faced death every day." Germain said nothing, dabbing his face with a napkin.

_Roci!_ Adélaïde thought. _He's here_. Her eyes darted around the banquet hall, searching for her childhood playmate. She found him, kneeling on the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks. His eyes glazed-over, a vacant, distant look was chiseled onto his face, his mouth agape as though it were sending forth bloodcurdling screams, but to Adélaïde surprise, no sound came from his mouth. Then, Adélaïde's eyes went wide with horror. Cradled in Rocinante's arms was Holming's body. The nine year old had dragged the heavy burden with him, all the way up to the Palace.

Adélaïde's heart ached. Rocinante hadn't changed at all. He was still the kind and loyal seven year old she'd known two years ago, still the boy who'd kissed her during a game of Truth Or Dare and then stated, quite matter of factly, he'd someday marry her, the same Roci who beat up Alphonse when the meanie'd placed his beetle collection in Adélaïde's bed, the same friend who understood Adélaïde's friendship with Basi, her slave-nanny, and never once ridiculed her for it.

"Can someone get one of their slaves to remove the _trash_ off the floor?" Gisèle retorted, eying the inconsolable nine year old with revilement. "That _human_ is clearly defective, he's lost the ability to speak." She run her bell and told the meal-slave who arrived to fetch her some more champagne.

Adélaïde'd had enough. She was in the process of standing up in her chair, a desire to go and console Rocinante burning her heart, when her foster-mother gave her a malicious glare. "_Don't you dare_ go to him, Adie." Gisèle's voice dripped more venom than the Vice-Warden of Impel Down. They are not of our kind." Adélaïde sat down, shame flushing her cheeks with deep red. Roci needed her. He'd always been there for her; she had to go to him. Still, the stares from those at the table froze her with fear, stripping her of her previously bold resolve. The twelve year old lowered her head, focusing on the laces of her ruby-encrusted shoes.

Doflamingo continued attempting to speak to the grandfather clearly bent on shutting out his pleas. "Grandpa! Why won't you listen. Why won't you help us?" The quaver was gone from his voice now. A look of rage and indignation was burned onto his ten year old visage. Adélaïde hadn't known a child's face could ever be filled with that much menace and fury, so devoid of fear or concern for those in front of him. This must have been the look the slaves assigned to his childhood playtimes became intimately familiar with. The tears were gone now. This was no longer a broken, pleading child. This was a monster.

"I killed the heretic!" The ten year old growled. "Let us come home, where we belong!" He kept walking towards his grandfather, ignoring the World Nobles standing up in their chairs, his face unfazed by the shouts of protest, the insults thrown at him from all around the banquet hall. "My little brother can no longer speak after what the _apostate_ put us through." He continued walking towards Saint Germain. Doflamingo no longer looked like a ten year old, but a diminutive man who'd been subjected to a life of horror, kept alive only by an iron will to survive and mete out justice to those foolish enough to have placed him in his plight. His eyes were hidden under his sunglasses, but Adélaïde imagined them to be burning coals of molten rage, the sunglasses keeping them from melting Germain right out of his clothes. She shuddered at the thought.

"Fine." Doflamingo sighed, with an eerie calm. "If you won't let me part of your world, Grandpa," he continued walking towards the World Noble, "I'll tear it down, along with you." It seemed as though all the life had been sapped from the ten year old's face, left with an empty shell. Doflamingo began wiggling his fingers with precise, oscillating movements, making motions akin to the puppeteers Adélaïde had seen in picture books Basi had read to her as a child.

Jalmack chuckled, licking cake-frosting off his fingers. Oblivious to the bits of food stuck in his beard, he turned his head to Gisèle. "The _human spawn_ has lost all sense." Gisèle smiled an elegantly dabbed her mouth with the napkin, nodding to her brother in agreement. "He's like one of my fishman Sea-Stone mine slaves, only good for being put down after their use's worn out." Jalmack laughed at his bad joke, nearly choking on a snort. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide, his face gripped by an expression of absolute panic and fear. Gisèle herself had also stopped smiling. The whole room had now been seized by an air of ghastly silence, the only sound belonging to Doflamingo's steps on the marble.

Adélaïde couldn't believe her eyes. Saint Germain stood, suspended in mid-air, a foot or so above his chair, his hands around his throat, eyes bulging out of his head. "Grandpa, you should've just let us come home." Doflamingo calmly stated, shaking his head. Germain gagged and choked, not making a sound, his hands struggling to free themselves from some unseen restraints. "A few months ago,"Doflamingo continued speaking, his voice the only audible sound in the loud banquet hall, "after being beaten by a mob of humans in the northern country you all abandoned us to, I found and ate a devil fruit. The_ String-String Fruit_." Germain continued struggling, his face turning beet red as he writhed and gagged. "Today, I killed the _traitor_. I followed our divine teachings, treating this _heretic_ like a filthy sinner, treating him as if he was a 'D'. And still, you won't let us return here? Did Roci and I _decide_ to leave? Don't us kids have a say?" He continued walking towards Germain. At this point, the World Nobles in the banquet hall were seized with panic, all anxiously awaiting the answer to the same question: _when_ was the admiral arriving?

Doflamingo continued speaking, "Before I killed him, I tracked down the leaders of the human rabble who dared to harm us, and _played_ with them." He smiled sardonically at the thought of what he'd done to his tormentors. Adélaïde was horrified. How could this monster be Roci's brother? "Now, I'm going to play with you." Germain gagged, his eyes filling with horror.

"The Admiral from Marineford will be here soon, _human_!" Saint Marie-Claude, Germain's wife and Doflamingo's grandmother, screeched. Doflamingo turned his head towards her, flashing her an amused smile, he moved his fingers and she began to gag. Soon, she'd fallen to the ground, gasping for air, the color quickly seeping from her skin. He relinquished his hold on her and the World Noble sheepishly crawled up to her seat. "You're not worth my fun." Doflamingo mused to her, delighting in the fear written on her face as she sat in her chair. "_He's_ the one I want." Germain's face was now a darker shade of red, bits of blue speckled in his cheeks and spreading. "Well, I guess playtime's over. Don't want to get caught by the Admiral you guys went off and tattled to." With one slip of his two pointer fingers, a gruesome sound was heard. "Damnit," Doflamingo spat, frowning, "still working out how to make it cleaner."

The blood spread quickly on the marble floor. Seeing the gored head rolling on the ground, Doflamingo cackled with glee. It didn't take long; pandemonium seized the whole banquet hall. Nobles ran from their seats, exiting through the doors with zero semblance of order or care for those who were just sitting next to them.

Adélaïde sat, astonished by what she was seeing. _Are we really Gods?_ She thought. _Do Gods act this selfishly?_ She'd heard stories from Basi's lessons of a certain sky island where a god reminded his people of his _humanity_, living side by side with humans, tending to _their_ concerns. It hadn't made sense to her then and to be honest, she'd giggled all the way through, but _that_ certainly looked much better than the utter lack of compassion she saw unfolding in front of her.

A man had just been beheaded, his wife choked, almost to death. _Don't you care?_ Adélaïde thought. _Is this really who we are?_ "Stupid girl, come on!" Gisèle griped, grabbing Adélaïde's hand to make her way out the door.

Adélaïde looked at the blonde haired ten year old standing over the headless corpses of his father and grandfather, a menacing smile on his face. She saw his younger brother holding his father's head, weeping inconsolably. _Is this who I am?_ Adélaïde thought. _Is this what I do?_ She looked at her uncle, Jalmack, pushing his greasy hands on those around him, trying to make his escape. _Roci needed me today. Roci needed me to be there. _Tears streamed down her cheeks, pain slicing her chest up into a gruesome mess.

_Roci, forgive me. _The sight of the weeping, mouth agape blonde-haired Rocinante being wrenched away from his father's cadaver by Doflamingo, carried out of the dining hall in agony, threatened to shatter Adélaïde's heart. _It's my rotten, no-good blood. _

_My Dragon blood did this to us._

What good was being divine if she couldn't be there when her friend needed her? What good was being divine if it caused one to turn the other way in the face of murder and tragedy? Her jarring thoughts caused her eyes to burn with salty fluid. She let the streams run down her cheeks. She deserved it, deserved all of the pain for what she'd stood by and did not a thing to stop. She deserved to experience just a tiny bit of what Roci now knew.

_I wish I'd never been born a God, _Adélaïde thought.

_A God who cannot save_.

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><p><strong>So Dragon's dealing with anger issues and Adélaïde's seeing things no twelve year old should ever have to see.<strong>

**Our heroes seem to be having a hard time right?**

**I hopped aboard Thriller Bark and wrote a pretty rough and scary chapter, just in time for Halloween.**

**I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts, so as always, pick up the Den Den Mushi and give me a shout!**

**Read & Review!**


	7. Monsters At My Birthday

AN: This chapter takes place a few months after the last.

Disclaimer: _One Piece and all characters (unless they're OCs) are the property of Echiro Oda. Props to him for being a badass._

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><p><strong>Dragons of the Void Century<strong>

**Chapter 06: Monsters At My Birthday**

Adélaïde's hand clutched the immaculately white linen more tenaciously than eagle's talons snatching up sea-born prey. "Relax." Basi comforted, smiling widely. "As long as this dress is, you're not gonna be able to hide under it." Adélaïde's nervous expression gave no indication of abating. Not even a little. "Oh come on." Basi replied teasingly, her face scrunched in a mock pout. "Don't you want these boys to see how _beautiful_ you look?" Adélaïde turned her head to her slave-nanny.

Unlike her fair-haired cousins Céleste and Héloïse, fully fledged Celestial Dragon maidens who relished finding themselves at the center of Mariejois' opulent and extravagant court life, driving droves of lovestruck suitors mad with desire, all Adélaïde wanted to do was hide in her bed, away from all the noise and pizzazz, curled up with novels about pirates and the maidens who found themselves aboard their ships, thrust in the midst of high octane adventure. Her face flushed painfully with scarlet. "You really think so?" Adélaïde whispered, struggling to believe what Basi had told her. The countless times Alphonse had called her a 'human bookworm' and the almost daily occurrence of Gisèle threatening to have Basi flogged for not cutting Adélaïde off from her books screamed otherwise. _Am I really beautiful?_ She doubted, her cheeks as red as flame-licked coals.

"Hey, now." Basi whispered gently, placing her warm hand on the girl's shoulder. "Adi." Starting today, following Adélaïde's coming of age ceremony, Basi would no longer be allowed to address her by her nickname, at least not in public. The childhood nickname would be replaced by the honorific "young mistress" or even "m'lady". To say Adélaïde felt trapped by Mariejois, with all its stifling customs and lavish, over the top pomp was an understatement. "I won't let your face be sour on this amazing day. Today's your Thirteenth BIRTHDAY!" Basi made the goofy face that'd set Adélaïde off into bursts of uncontrollable laughter all throughout her childhood. Adélaïde smiled in spite of herself, appreciative of how far Basi was going to cheer her up.

"Basi, I'm not six anymore." Adélaïde giggly protested.

Basi shrugged. "Really? I didn't notice." She leaned in closer, her eyes scanning Adélaïde from head to foot in mock scrutiny. "Woah! You're gonna be a woman now." Adélaïde rolled her eyes. She felt Basi's hand tousling her hair. Basi winked at her. "In all seriousness, I know you're growing up." Was that sadness Adélaïde heard in Basi's voice? Why? What had she done? She looked into Basi's eyes and saw the twinkling of restrained droplets.

"Basi, I don't care how old I am. You can call me Adi if you want to." Adélaïde stated matter of factly.

"Hey now." Basi was startled. "You can't just go turning over traditions whenever you feel like it. Lady Gisèle'll throw a fit!"

Adélaïde scowled at the mention of that icy-hearted woman. "I DON'T CARE!" The fierceness in Adélaïde's voice took both her and Basi by surprise. "If I'm going to grow up and be a woman, preparing to marry someone I don't give two shits about and who only cares about my title–"

"Adi?! Language!" Basi's hands perched themselves on her hips. _My God! What's come over this girl today_?

"–Then I should at least be allowed to be YOUR Adi!" Her eyes burned with molten indignation. Basi froze. She'd only seen Adélaïde this angry after witnessing Alphonse's cruelty to slaves. Basi felt that familiar dagger-like pain stirring in her chest. _This is my punishment, _she thought, bending down to the girl sitting in the emerald chair, _my curse for keeping you from the truth. For denying you what you need. _Basi smiled at the miffed teenager, the dagger plummeting all the more deeply into her heart. _Adi, you have no idea how much this hurts, how much I want to cave in and tell you. But, if you are to stay free, I have to bear these chains. Silently._ Seeing Basi's smile, the slave-nanny's eyes riddled with pain and hurt, brought Adélaïde to her senses. "I'm sorry, Basi." She cracked an apologetic, shame-fraught smile. "I didn't mean to be a brat with you."

"Shush." Basi insisted. She held the teenager in her arms. "My girl, you don't have to worry about being anything other than yourself when we're alone. I _love_ who you are."

Adélaïde blushed. "Why is it you're more of a mother to me than Gisèle?" Basi hugged the girl close, an embrace tight enough to shield the teenager from the tears welling up in her slave-nanny's eyes heavy, watery secrets that could never be allowed to roll down her tan cheeks.

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><p>Adélaïde scratched at the myrrh slathered spot on her forehead. <em>Damn that <em>_**human**__ of a high priest for rubbing this itchy gunk on my forehead._ She sighed in annoyance. The glistening, sweet-smelling resin, the symbol of her blossoming journey into maidenhood, gave her skin a frustrating oily sensation. _Kinda feels like this prison._ Adélaïde thought. _Smells great and it's nice to look at, but don't let it touch you._ She smiled at the thought of the palace littered with armed guards and wardens to keep the Celestial Dragons tied to their extravagantly wasteful lifestyles of excess. She relished the thought of her cousin and foster brother Alphonse and her aunt and adoptive mother Gisèle being locked in a room, forced to gorge themselves on obscene amounts of cake and sweets until they exploded. _Serves them right_. She let out a loud giggle, then caught herself.

Gisèle probably had a bunch of slaves scouring the palace in search of her right now. Adélaïde'd given Basi the slip to sneak around the halls of the palace. The sights and sounds of her thirteenth birthday celebration had been comparable to sitting in a cage with lions nearing dinner time. Celebrities, dignitaries, and heads of state of every rank and reputation had filed in to wish her well. But, Adélaïde had felt like the lions were sizing her up, trying to see whether the youngest member of the Childebert family had what it took to be a Celestial Dragon maiden. How she hated it. The faux politeness, the politics, the scheming in the backdrop of everything that went on in the palace, all of it screamed how out of place she was. Why can't I be kidnapped by Pirates like Elsa Smernias? The protagonist of her latest novel definitely led a far more interesting life than the stifling nightmare Adélaïde found herself unable to wake up from.

Speaking of books, it'd probably _not_ be a good idea for Adélaïde to return to her room at this point. The library was also most definitely off limits. With her notoriety as an avid reader, those would be the first places Gisèle would have in mind to look for her. _Gisèle_. Adélaïde's fists clenched at the thought of the woman who seemed to derive pleasure from deriding her foster-daughter's every flaw. Far from the kindness her uncle Ambroise had shown to her from as far back as she could remember, insisting she call him 'daddy' or 'father' from the beginning, Gisèle treated Adélaïde like the dangerously ravenous Banana Gators in many of Mariejois' aquarium tanks, a pet to be observed at a distance. Nothing Adélaïde did was good enough for her. She certainly wasted no time reminding the girl of the huge gap between her Plain Jane, cusp of puberty awkwardness and Céleste and Héloïse's full, womanly, and graceful beauty_. Basi's more of a mother than she'll ever be to me_. In the aftermath of the horror that'd taken place at Mariejois a few months ago, Basi had held her and done her best to make up for the absence of Adélaïde's childhood friend. Gisèle had acted as if what had happened had been nothing other than a stain on an expensive dress, something to be handed off to someone else to fix and forgotten about the very next second.

Adélaïde brow furrowed. Let that woman look for her. She wasn't about to make it easy. She continued her stroll through the hallways and corridors. As a six year old, she'd often run off from Basi's lessons to go exploring. There were hundreds of rooms in the palace and Adélaïde didn't know a soul who'd been to every one. After a long period of walking, she found herself outside of a room she'd often seen Ambroise disappear into. She heard the sound of men's voices and with time to kill and an insatiable curiosity, she pressed her ear up against the wall, hoping to ascertain the source of the hoopla.

The sound of a liquid being poured into a glass echoed in Adélaïde's ears.

"Curse the spawn of that traitor Donquioxte!" A voice spat. Adélaïde's ears perked up.

"Indeed. How'd he find out about our Sacred Treasure? And more importantly, how is that demon child still alive?" Another chimed.

"Ambroise, don't you have CP0 working on that?"

Liquid sloshed around in a goblet. "I do." Ambroise replied. "But sometimes it takes the best of hunting dogs a little while to get on the trail, especially when they're hunting rats as persistent as these two brothers."

A fist thumped on a table. "You think we can let them live after that stunt that imp pulled her a few months ago? I want them found and brought here so I can have their heads mounted!"

"Understood." Ambroise agreed.

An older, more subdued voice spoke next. "There's a lot of talk going around that after finding that dangerous devil fruit, he put together a pirate crew of scum and riffraff."

The owner of the table-thumping voice snorted. "You see that? The little runt just proved our point."

Ambroise laughed. "That insolent brat came back here and begged to be one of us again. Overcoming the difference between the blood running through his veins and ours is as impossible as a paraplegic successfully scaling the Red Line while blindfolded." He paused. More liquid sloshed around in a goblet. He continued. "I'd always respected Homing as a gentleman and a dear friend. That's why I tried so hard to change his mind when he'd started spouting off that heresy to me." He snorted in disgust. "Live as a human? Leave the palace. What a fool!"

"No wonder his own brat murdered him." A raspy voice spat. "Did our work for us, if you ask me."

"And did you see the way the younger of the traitor's vermin spawns just flopped on the ground like a dying fish?"

The ensuing chorus of laughter made Adélaïde's stomach gyrate with horror. "He couldn't bear the sight of his father's head in Doflamingo's hand."

"We'll be sure to do the same with his brother's once we catch him. What I wouldn't give to see those eyes rolled back in his head, mouth agape in shock."

More laughter echoed throughout the room.

"As a kid, my mother used to tell me if I held my mouth open too long, flies and gnats would fly into it." Ambroise quipped.

Adélaïde couldn't take any more of this cruelty. How could her adoptive father join in with these monsters? How could he laugh at Roci's expense? The Donquixote family had been nothing but kind to her. Auntie Donquixote had been a kind and loving soul, the kind of regal woman she'd hoped she'd someday grow into. Roci had been her best friend. Ambroise knew that. How could he laugh? How could he?

She briskly walked away from the door slumping in a corner as stinging, saltwater dripped down her cheeks. She let the tears come, pain she'd been trying to bury for months gushing out of her like dammed seawater billowing forth at the opening of the Gates of Justice she'd read about in an almanac.

_Roci._ Her tortured mind reached for a person she feared was long gone. _Are you still alive?_ Faced with an onslaught of answerless questions, all her battered heart could do was mourn.

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><p><strong>Hey guys! <strong>

**Sorry for the LONG wait! I took some time off to completely outline and flesh out this story and figure out where I'm going to take Dragon and Adélaïde. All I can say is I got a lot of surprises in store for you guys including the appearance of a younger Gol D. Roger so keep reading!**

**Poor Adélaïde though. The kid just can't catch a break. I'm afraid our heroine is in for A LOT more heartache. **

**Next week, we'll switch back to Dragon and Foosha village.**

**I'll be honest and say that this week and next week's chapters will probably end up being my LEAST favorite chapters to write. It took me a while to finish this one because I'm too excited about getting to some of the craziness that's about to begin starting the chapter after next. With only a few chapters left until Dragon and Adélaïde meet up, I think y'all will be happy with some of the coming attractions.**

**Also, starting this week, I'm going to start answering each of your reviews, so if you guys have any questions or comments you want to throw at me about the story, don't be shy!**

**Here are my responses to last week's reviews**

***** DEN DEN MUSHI TIME! *****

**xenocanaan: I'm glad you can't wait! That makes me happy. Sorry I took so long!**

**13kuroineko: Dragon's anger and how he grows into the calm, level-headed commander we all know and get hype over is part of the story. Stay tuned!**

**BatmanSwim2016: Doflamingo is NUTS. No doubt about that. And yeah, Rocinante is in such rough shape right about now. :'( Corazon nooooooooooo. *Sniffle* I'm still torn up about that.**

**SNicole25: Yep, 6 years older. And you're definitely right about the horrors shaping Adélaïde into the woman she'll be in the future. Unfortunately, there are some more horrors to come before that can happen. I know, I'm cruel. :(**

**Guest: Sorry for not quickly adding my chapter. I'm trying to be back on a more regular schedule now that I have much firmer grasp on where my story's going.**

**Mr. Kira: You'll get more, my dude! Stay tuned, I'm glad you're enjoying this story!**

**Black Scorpio X: Thanks bro! I'm glad you decided to sail with me and I know right? Dragon is AWESOME!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and to everyone who hasn't, do me a favor and send me your thoughts next week!**

**Pick up the Den Den Mushi and call me, I promise I won't bite.**

**Read and review!**

**Also, if you believe in this story, don't be afraid to tell your friends to check it out! I'd love to have some more crewmates.**

**All that being said, I'll see you all next week! **

***Hops aboard Ace's Striker raft and sails away***


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